


Ghosts That We Knew

by Redofthewolves



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redofthewolves/pseuds/Redofthewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lisa was dead to begin with.</p><p>Ianto Jones, ex-Spirit Agent, can't let her go. When it starts affecting his building, it becomes one Jack Harkness' business. A haunting led them to each other, and hauntings will keep them together. Ghost Hunting AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts That We Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Ianto Jones! Have some angst.
> 
> In reality, this is all I had ready to publish. This started as a Ghostbusters AU, then a Supernatural AU, and now it's whatever this is. Chapter 2 is half done and I promise it will have way less angst and way more romance.
> 
> Thanks to my betas as always.

She was at the foot of his bed again. At least she wasn’t bleeding this time, Ianto thought.

The setting wasn’t even right for this tonight. The night wasn’t dark or stormy or even particularly ominous. It was summer in Cardiff, which meant the sky wasn’t completely covered in clouds. Ianto had been sleeping with just a sheet, but he’d switched to a blanket and a fan when Lisa started appearing, which he was grateful for tonight. The air had turned cold and humid, the kind only felt deep underground in caves and in basements. A light flashed outside, like a car passing, even though Ianto was on the third floor.

He sat up, rubbing a hand over his eyes. When Ianto opened them, she was still there. Tonight she was wearing her green dress, the one she had on during their last holiday party together. Her hair was more disheveled than he remembered, but he had been pretty drunk by the end of that night. It also hardly mattered what state her hair was in now. She was dead.

The lights outside flickered faster, and Ianto could hear the faint sound of a horn in the distance, even though he was too far from the bay to hear any boats. Lisa didn’t move as he swung his feet out of bed, but her head followed him unnaturally as he left the room, turning on his kitchen light. Lisa was already there, this time naked, holes in her chest dripping onto the linoleum.

“Not talking tonight, then?” he asked her bleeding form as he put the kettle on. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he could feel a blister beginning to form.

It was going to be another sleepless night.

-

“Three calls of domestic disturbance in the last month, reports of weird smells and one person pushed down a flight of stairs. I’d say it fits your profile as well as any other case has.”

Jack switched back from the call to the navigation on the car’s dashboard, turning his attention back to the road. The light still hadn’t changed.

“I still think that house in Grangetown sounded more promising. Sure this is what I should focus on? I can work both at once,” Jack argued, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. If the light didn’t change soon, he was going to just go for it. It was five in the morning, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t like there were other cars around. Well, not that many.

Gwen yawned on the other end of the line. “No, Jack, this is the one. The Doctor even gave it his personal stamp of approval. Now, is there anything else you needed? I’ve got to get to work,” she grumbled, the sound of fabric rustling coming through the speakers.

“Ooo, are you getting dressed? What are you wearing now?”

“Goodbye, Jack.”

Jack huffed a laugh as she hung up. He would have conceded the point eventually: it sounded like Whitby Flats was his job of the week. The light changed finally, and he drove away, pulling to the side of the road to pull up Google on his phone.

-

Everything in Ianto’s life was simple these days. He ate frozen meals or protein bars, because they didn’t require a long prep time. Showers lasted either five minutes or half an hour. No job yet, but his mother called him every Wednesday, and he called his therapist every other Monday. His wardrobe was mostly sweats and tshirts, but he still wore suits when he left the flat. On the off days he did eat dinner out, he only ventured as far as the Thai place around the corner.

That was where he was Thursday night when he saw the people on the roof.

He’d been walking back from dinner when he saw them. There was enough ambient light from the street lamps to shine onto the roof, illuminating the figures. From the brief flash Ianto got, one was a tall man in a large coat, and the other smaller, more feminine. Both were huddled around what looked like a camera on a tripod. Ianto frowned as he buzzed himself up the stairs. Must be new tenants with a photography hobby.

He fell asleep on the couch that night, laptop on his chest with twelve different tabs open. The static hum of the TV in the background helped him drown out Lisa’s whispers when she started up again. He had forgotten to put his leftovers in the fridge, but it hardly mattered when the rest of his curry ended up thrown against the wall two hours later. Lisa disappeared while he scrubbed off the orange drippings, but he was certain she couldn’t be far.

-

Jack was grateful that Tosh had been able to narrow it down to the third floor. It wasn’t so much that Whitby Flats was a big building, but it always helped to have a smaller range to search. And time was of the essence here, apparently. Just last night, a pipe had burst off the wall, breaking the resident janitor’s arm. He had said the steam must have built up too far, but Jack had seen the way his nails had dug into his skin.

Using the EMF meter, he’d narrowed it down to three apartments on the east side. One had recently been vacated, and it had been easy enough to pick the lock to get a look inside. The flat was completely empty save for a fire extinguisher in the kitchen and an emergency ladder in the closet. A dead end if there ever was one, pun intended.

It still left two flats to be checked. According to Mrs. Haversham on the fifth floor, 3A was occupied by a young man named Ianto and 3B by two older women named Rica and Mairwen, who were currently having a lovely holiday in the islands. The man had been here for about two months, and the women for three, both around the time the incidents started happening. Mrs. Haversham had plenty to say about those as well, telling him about poor Mr. Jenkins that was injured last night and how Sally Parker had fallen down the stairs just a few weeks ago. Jack was still surprised by how much older women would tell you if you simply fixed their sinks. If only breaking into apartments was just as easy.

He ran into a problem when trying to get into 3B. He had kept his maintenance uniform on, and was just about to jimmy the lock, when a young man emerged from 3A. He was young, mid-20s, and definitely a native Welshman; Jack could spot those a mile away. He was holding a couple reusable grocery bags, and his grey suit was a size too big on him, hardly noticeable to anyone who didn’t know clothing. If he noticed Jack he didn’t show it, eyes passing over him as he made his way to the stairwell. He would be beautiful, Jack thought absentmindedly, if he didn’t look like death warmed over.

Mr. Jones has seen better days, Jack noted as he heard the bell of the main door. Whether that was because of his apartment or his neighbors remained to be seen.

-

Being in the bathtub wouldn’t help, Ianto knew, but he hadn’t slept in three days. He was trying anything new at this point.

Lisa was pounding on the door, and he could hear her nails scraping against the wood. In a last ditch effort to find some rest, he’d drawn a line of salt across the threshold of the bathroom, piled blankets into the tub, and drawn a rune on the door in thick Sharpie. 

_Ianto, love, keep going, I’m right behind you, it’s okay,_ Lisa was screaming from the other side. The door rattled on its hinges. In the dark of the bathroom, lights flashed underneath the door, even though Ianto was sure everything was unplugged in the bedroom.

She hadn’t actually spoken in a week. He did begin to cry this time, tears weak and nose snotty. The whole room was rumbling, like something was moving underground. “Lisa, stop it,” he whimpered, hands gripping his knees, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

She didn’t stop all at once. The room slowly stopped shaking, the lights dimmed, and Lisa didn’t speak anymore that night. When he finally fell asleep, he could still hear her hands hitting the door rhythmically, like feet running up stairs.

-

The maintenance shtick had run its course, especially since Whitby Flat’s new repair man had shown up that afternoon. He’d have to take the backdoor in and not for the first time in his life, he smiled to himself as he made his way up the fire escape. Ianto Jones had left that afternoon when a woman showed up at his door, both getting into a car parked in the neighboring lot. It was the perfect time to see what Mr. Jones was dealing with. 

He’d nearly come back empty-handed from 3B. If he hadn’t found the Rica Dennings’ new cell number on a sticky note in the flat’s office, he might have been out of luck on anything new. Thankfully, Tosh was able to patch him through and he played the old ‘tenant survey’ trick. Rica had been more than happy to complain about her neighbor, who apparently kept having rows with his girlfriend at odd hours. He’d promised to speak to the other tenant about the noise disturbances as he hung up. If everything went the way he hoped, he wouldn’t have to talk to Ianto Jones at all.

Jack was relieved to find the window unlocked; the last thing he wanted to do right now was break glass. Crouching as he stepped through the window, the first thing he noticed was the the apartment was a mess. What little furniture there was all looked damaged, and he could see several shoddily-repaired holes in the wall. Brushing off his coat, he instinctively reached for his gun at what he saw next: the entire apartment was covered with wards. On the door, the ceiling, even painted into the carpet were runes, some looking suspiciously like blood. Jack frowned as he leaned down to take a closer look at one by the window: it wasn’t a malicious ward, merely a containment rune. Looking around, Jack could see that some of the marking were for keeping harmful energies out, but most were for keeping something in. Several more he didn’t recognize at all. This new information changed the game, though.

Ianto Jones was harboring a ghost, and he was well aware of it.

The man seemed to know his stuff, though. Looking back the way he came, a line of salt ran around the entire rim of the living room and along the window sill. Jack double-checked to make sure hadn’t broken the line when he came in. Thankfully, the barrier was still intact.

He made his way into the bedroom, hand ready on his gun holster. The air had grown thick and musty, like a mausoleum or a subway. Scanning the new room quickly, he noticed a nightstand with a lone picture on it, a dark-skinned woman laughing at the camera. Someone, or something, laughed right next to his ear.

In the other room, a silent alarm continued to go off.

-

Ianto Jones had been prepared for this. But he hadn't expected it to happen so soon, before he could try again.

This was the second flat he'd moved into after returning to Cardiff, and he thought he'd guarded the place well enough. He'd put up every ward he knew off hand, to keep Lisa in and anything else out. He was no closer to finding a new solution than the last binding he'd tried, though. And now a ghost hunter had found him.

He'd put up alarms specifically for this purpose. Ideally, no one would ever figure out what Ianto’s apartment held, but with Lisa in the state she was in the noises and rumbling must have tipped someone off. Ianto would love it if this break-in turned out to be a common burglar, but he would never be that lucky. He clenched his jaw as he mentally willed his Uber to go faster; Ianto had worked too hard and sacrificed too much to let someone take Lisa away from him now.

Ianto took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the ache in his knees and how exhausted he felt. He fumbled with his keys, putting in the wrong one before he finally got the door open.

“Oh, Ricky, you're finally home!” someone shouted from the bedroom. The proper word was probably gurgled, actually.

Ianto skipped locking the door as he dashed into the bedroom. The entire place looked like it had been trashed, because it had been. Covers were ripped off the bed, shards of glass covered the floor, and Lisa’s form flickered violently in the middle of the room, her hand around a man’s throat as she suspended him off the ground.

“Help me out? Love a bit of strangling but not like this,”the intruder pleaded, pawing at hands around his neck he couldn't touch.

Indecision paralyzed Ianto before he stepped forward, reaching towards Lisa. “Lisa, please, put him down. It’s okay, I’m here,” he cooed. Lisa’s head turned towards him, and the smell of trash assaulted Ianto. Lisa’s grip must have relaxed enough for the man to breathe, because he reached down, pulling a knife out of his boot and swiping at Lisa. She screamed, Ianto’s cry joining hers, before her form split apart, racing out of the room.

Ianto swore as she passed him, before turning his attention to the man now rubbing his neck on his bedroom floor. He pulled his gun from the small of his back, pointing it at the intruder.

“I should have known you weren’t maintenance,” he scowled as the man put his hands up. “They don’t make janitors that handsome.”

“So you think I’m handsome then?”

Ianto cocked his gun.

“Alright, not the time to flirt, got it.”

“Show me your badge.”

The man reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a wallet. He dug inside again, pulling out a second leather bifold and handing it over. Ianto let his gun arm relax as he read.

So he was legitimate. Jack Harkness, Glamorgan division. Spirit Agent since…

“1943? Is that a typo?”

“

Sure. Why not,” the man shrugged, pushing himself off the floor.

Ianto trained his gun back on him without looking up. He folded the badge, handing it back over. “You're legitimate, but your services aren't needed. Leave my flat.”

“Hold your horses, Ianto Jones. There's a spectre here, and like it or not, it's my job to get rid of it,” Jack spat, hands on his hips. Outside the apartment, a horn sounded.

“I have the situation under control. This is my ghost; I'll handle it myself.”

“Yeah, clearly you're handling it great so far. What, are you just going to keep her like a little pet until she kills you?”

Ianto’s gun hand trembled. “You watch your mouth. That's my girlfriend you're talking about.”

“Was,” Jack stressed, “She was your girlfriend. She's dead now. She's dead, and she's threatening you and everyone in this building.”

“No, just me,” Ianto insisted. “I've warded this place well enough to keep any ghosts it.”

“You know as well as I do that's not a ghost anymore-”

“No, stop.”

“-that's a revenant. And your neighbors are getting hurt because of it. Little Sally Parker, pushed down the stairs. Manuel Rodriguez, hit by a exploding pipe. How long until one of them are pushed off a balcony? Until you are?”

“She’d… she’d never hurt me. I can fix this. I can try again.”

“Again? Are you saying you did something already?”

“I can turn her back. I’m so close. It didn’t work the first time, but I can try again.” His arm fell, the strain of keeping the gun trained on the hunter too much.

“Look at yourself, Ianto Jones,” Jack spat, moving into his personal space, “Trying to bind this ghost is killing you. Lisa is gone, and if we don’t do something about the remnant of her that’s sticking around, she’ll kill someone else.”

Ianto’s lips were curled back, tense and ugly, as tears ran down his face. “I thought I could keep her. I thought, since she stuck around… but now she’s changed. I don’t… I can’t lose her again,” he babbled, wiping snot from his nose.

“You can.” The man’s hands gripped his biceps, forcing Ianto to look him in the eye. “You can, and you will. If you’re strong enough to hold out this long, you’re strong enough to keep on living. Now either help me do this, or get out.”

Ianto took a long, shaky breath. From the other room, Lisa wailed sadly.

-

It was all going fairly well until Ianto was shot.

They’d barricaded themselves in the bathroom, using the ward Ianto had put in place to buy them time. It was fading and starting to smear in places, and it wouldn’t hold long against a fully-formed revenant, but it gave them enough time to set up the candles and other things they’d need. Ianto had pulled a box of Lisa’s stuff from the closet, and they sat sorting through it, trying to determine what could still be binding her to this plane, the revenant howling from the other side of the door the entire time. Eventually, the two of them settled on an old pair of ballet slippers, her old company ID, and the watch Ianto had bought her for their one year anniversary. Jack could tell it hurt Jones to think of parting with these mementos, but he ignored the other man's pain. He was the reason they were in this situation in the first place, after all.

Pulling out his bag of salt, Jack tossed the objects into the bathtub, up turning the bag over them. He nodded to Ianto, who opened the door as Jack fished around for the flash of gasoline he kept.

Lisa wasn't on the other side of the door, which worried Jack, but not as much as what would happen if this didn't work. As he doused the objects, Ianto pulled out something from under the sink, tossing it towards Jack. The box of matches smacked him in the head, and he swore, “Fuck, warn a guy first!”

“Just hurry up,” Ianto snapped, peering around the doorjamb, “She could be back any moment.”

Jack hesitated for only a moment, before tossing a match in. The objects lit immediately, and they both heard an unholy wail, seeming to come from the walls themselves, before fading into silence.

“Is that it?” Ianto whispered, leaning heavily against the wall.

“Seems like it. Let's let the fire die and then-”

He couldn't finish the sentence before he was pulled from his position on the toilet, and hurled into the bedroom. Head over feet, he crashed into the bookshelf, several books falling on top of him.

“Jack!”

From his folded-up position on the floor, Jack watched as the revenant rose from the floor, no longer the pretty woman she had been before, but a mangled and horrid version, like a corrupted data file. She cast a red glow around the room, and when she opened her mouth, a man’s laugh came through, malicious and unstrung.

“What now, sir?” Ianto yelled, trying to keep out of Lisa’s malicious glare. He didn't have to worry: she seemed to only have eyes for Jack right now.

“There's gotta be something else. Is there anything we missed? Anything not in the box?”

“There's nothing!” Ianto babbled as Jack stood, “Everything she had is- Wait. No, there's that necklace, but she didn't even like that one. She was just wearing it when-”

“When she died? Sounds important to me. Grab it!”

They both sprung into action at the same time: Ianto making a beeline for his nightstand while Jack made his way along the edge of the room, turning Lisa’s back to the other man. He rummaged through the top drawer before pulling out a simple chain and tossing it to Jack, who thankfully caught it this time.

He dashed for the bathroom as the whole apartment started to shake, a dull ringing making him deaf. He only had one foot on the bathroom tile before he was throwing the necklace in, time slowing as it sailed through the air, before landing in the still-burning fire.

Lisa screamed, blasting the windows out. Wind spun violently through the room, knocking pillows off the bed and pictures from the walls. Jack could only stand and watch as what was left of Lisa tore itself apart, before setting its sights on Jack again. She dove towards Jack, mouth agape with the sound of a train horn.

And then Ianto was in front of him, scrambling to take the full force of the revenant’s wrath. The man folded like he'd been punched in the chest, and collapsed backwards onto Jack, sending both of them tumbling to the bathroom floor.

Then everything was quiet.

“I've seen a lot, but that was the worst ‘angry ex-girlfriend’ I've ever encountered,” Jack huffed after a minute, pushing himself upright. He frowned when the other man didn't respond.

“Ianto? Hey, buddy, you still with me?”

Only then did he notice the blood seeping into Ianto’s suit.

-

“You should be waking up about now. Take it slow there. Can you hear me yet? Jones?”

He came to slowly, eyes heavy as he blinked. He was in hospital, by the looks of it. Ianto’s hands looked much whiter than usual, even against the bleached sheets. There was a man leaning over him, checking his pupils. He didn't recognize him.

“Welcome back, Dorothy. How was Oz?” the doctor joked, moving the penlight back and forth.

Ianto tried to swat the light away, but the drugs in his system made him sluggish. He ended up uselessly pawing at the air like a baby in a cradle.

“Yeah, I know, almost done. Let me just take a quick look at your vitals then I'll put you under again. Best measure given those bullet wounds are gonna start aching real soon.”

Bullet wounds? Ianto tried to frown, reaching up to paw at his chest. He managed to smack himself in the face with his IV tube and getting his arms pushed down.

“Alright, enough of that or you'll hurt yourself and Jack will kill me,” the doctor scowled. “Now I really am going to put you under.”

“Harkness?” Ianto managed to slur, “Where is he? And who are you?”

“Owen Harper, nice to meet you. Now, shut up and pass out already.”

Ianto couldn't help but comply.

-

It was easy enough to clean up Whitby Flats for someone with Jack’s experience. A little retcon here, a little damage repair there, and no one remembered the name Ianto Jones; he only left them with the memories of a nice young man who didn't stay long and didn't cause trouble. All he had left was to submit the official case notes, and this was a done job. Well, except for one loose end.

Owen had texted him when Jones had woken up and kept Jack updated on his progress. He'd left the poor man alone for too long: it was time to check in personally.

Owen wasn't in the ward when he checked in, but he and Jack could catch up later. He stopped to ask the nurse’s station where Jones was, before making his way to the patient room.

Surprisingly, Jones looked better than when Jack had first met him; rest and proper hydration had changed him back into a perfectly healthy man, at least on the outside. Jack cleared his throat as he entered, causing Ianto to look up from his book, and he opened the file he was holding.

“Ianto Jones,” he read allowed, “Greater London Area. Spirit Agent since 2001. 83 successful cases. Status-”

“Hiatus for mental recuperation,” Ianto finished for him, sighing wearily.

“And here you had me thinking you were just a rogue enthusiast. Didn't think to mention this earlier?” Jack folded his arms, taking the chair next to the bed.

“And admit to be a Spirit Agent harboring a ghost?” He looked weary again, some of the exhaustion of his injury seeping into his posture.

“I'm not ratting you out,” Jack snapped, crossing his legs, “In fact, I didn't even include your name in my report. As far as the Agency knows, I dealt with a revenant haunting a man named Kieran Miller.”

“Who’s Kieran Miller?”

“Your neighbor in 3D. You really didn't leave the house much, did you?”

Ianto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why did you keep my name out of the report? If there's something you want from me, I don't have anything.”

Jack ignored him, looking back at the file. “Owen says you'll be out of here in about four days: you should be thankful the revenant only inflicted a partial amount of its fatal injuries on you. When you're released, text me,” he went on, handing over a card, “and we’ll talk over drinks.”

“Talk? About what?”

“I've got some ideas,” Jack winked, standing up, “but you'll have to wait and see, won't you?”

-

Ianto should have arranged someone to pick him up, but he wasn't even sure where he was going. Before he'd left, Jack had mentioned he was holding Ianto's stuff he'd managed to salvage from the flat; there was no use going back to Whitby now. He had spoken to his sister just yesterday, but didn't even consider asking to stay with her. And everyone else he knew was back in London.

Which left him standing outside the outpatient ward, thumb teasing the edge of Jack’s card.

He sighed as he dialed Jack's number. He must really be desperate if he'd call the man who helped exorcize his former girlfriend.

Jack picked up after the second ring. “Hello?” he answered, mouth full of something.

“You can't even swallow before answering the phone?” Ianto snorted.

“Oh baby, I can always swallow. Also, who is this?”

“It's Jones. Ianto Jones.”

“Ianto! Didn't think you would actually call. Are you free tonight?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, considering his options. “I suppose so. You mentioned something about a drink?”

“I never take back an offer. Where can I pick you up?”

“Er, the hospital actually.” It was embarrassing to admit he hadn’t made any other calls yet. Thankfully, Jack didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Jack replied, hanging up without a goodbye.

It ended up being half an hour. Ianto almost didn’t see him pull up at first, expecting a Ford or a Volkswagon. The last thing he was expecting was what Jack pulled up in: a dark blue four-door Mini Cooper. Jack leaned out the window, smiling. “Hey stranger, how much?”

Ianto sighed as he slid into the car. He took in the interior, lips pursed, as Jack watched him. “This is your car?”

“What, not impressed with Cool Breeze Climax?” he grinned as he pulled onto the street.

“Definitely your car then. No one else could think of a name like that.”

“You talk like you know me, Ianto. I’m full of secrets.”

“Is where we’re going also a secret?”

“With that tone, yes. Now it’s classified.”

Jack’s top secret location ended up being the rooftop of a building by the bay. Ianto didn’t ask how Jack knew they didn’t lock the stairwell; when you work as an Agent in a city, you pick up useful information from each case. They sat on one of the upper ledges, watching the water bob in the bay, nursing bottles from the six-pack Jack had carried up. Jack didn’t try to make small talk, saying he wanted to watch the water for a minute. After a while, Ianto spoke up.

“It was a Tuesday morning,” he started. “Lisa and I had taken the underground to Oxford Circus, to get shoes for our camping trip. We were heading towards the exit… Lisa was comparing the prices of tennis shoes on her phone. Then we heard the first shots. I grabbed for Lisa’s hand, but I couldn’t find it. We just started running. I heard screaming over to my left, but I didn’t look. There were so many people, all shoulder-to-shoulder, clamouring for the exit. I could hear Lisa telling me to keep going. I thought she was right behind me, but when I got to the street, she wasn’t there. I tried to push my way back down, but the crowd was coming too fast… by the time I made it down it was too late. Twelve people killed that day, and Lisa was one of them. All because I didn’t take her hand."

The man next to him took a long breath, before putting a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself like that. It never gets easier, losing people. It’s always going to hurt. But you’ll kill yourself if you take all the blame.”

“Comforting, thank you.”

“I doubt you wanted me to lie. Thanks for telling me.”

Ianto took a long drag of his beer before setting it down. “Why did you want to talk, Jack?”

“Maybe I just wanted to have a drink with a handsome man,” Jack leered, removing his hand.

“I was under the impression you were going to ask me to be your Second.”

“I think that’s the gist of what I just said.”

“You know what I mean.”

The setting sun cast a warm glow on Jack’s skin, making him look years younger, but it couldn’t erase the lines around his eyes or the weight on his brow. “It crossed my mind a few times. Your ward work is incredible, and you’ve clearly got a knack for research. I’m not sure you’re ready for field work again, though.”

“I’ll have Yvonne do a final psych eval on me. It’s all I need to be reinstated.”

“Wait,” Jack leaned back, frowning. “You’re saying yes?”

Ianto shrugged. “I’m saying give me a week to fully heal, and we’ll see what the Agency says. Being away from work for this long has gotten under my collar; I’m eager to get back.”

“Sure, I can get that, but… with me?”

He ignored Jack’s gaze, looking out over the bay. “After Lisa… After she was gone, everything just went… numb. Fighting the revenant with you, I felt for the first time in a while. I could use more of that, I think.”

Jack huffed out a laugh, holding out his beer. “I’ll drink to that, Ianto Jones.”

“Oh! I almost forgot,” he continued, reaching into a coat pocket. “Did you want the other half of my sandwich? I don’t know what hospital food is like these days, but it can’t be great.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow, even as he took the sandwich from Jack’s outstretched hand. “What, are you my mother now?”

“I think I much prefer being called daddy.”

It took all of Ianto’s willpower not to push Jack off the edge.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry Ianto. I'll get you laid in the next chapter.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [adhdalistair](adhdalistair.tumblr.com).


End file.
